YOUR DAY

This day may be like
None ever before,
When a who-knows-what ceiling
For you is in store,

When a leap in the bay
From a motor boat side
Is only the start
Of your who-knows-where ride,

Today may be when
You write your first song,
A number so good it sounds good
On a gong!

You might tour a city,
Paint portraits pretty,
Learn who-knows-what game,
Write jokes that are witty,

Cook from a new page of your recipe book,
Decode that mistake you feared would stay mistook.
Just after that where next this day may go,
If you play your cards right, who-could-possibly know?

Maybe fishing with brother,
Or soccer with sis,
Or the last chapter of
“The Great Adventuress.”

Today’s who-knows-what ceiling
Is … well … who can say?
Only you because this
Is going to be your day.

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WAVE THAT FLAG

FISHY STORY

In the crick by our house
It shimmers like glass
We’re gawn off to catch
Some Chilean Sea Bass

We swear that we’ve seen them
Sunning with koi
How reeling one in
Would be such a joy!

We’ll watch and we’ll wait
Prepared for the battle
With hand-crafted sea bass
Bait hooks and tackle

We’ll stay still and silent
So our bass won’t be scared
As he moseys up crick from
Far down the Delaware.

Then once he’s netted…
Can you picture it:
Our beautiful full color
Trophy portrait?!?

The whole gang all smiling
With our new pal from Chile
We’ll send a framed copy
To Mum-Mum in Philly

Or we’ll bring her some
When we’re back from the crick
When she tastes those filets
She’ll be so proud she’ll frick.

Don’t think we can’t do it
You take back your laughs.
We’re off on our bikes now
For Chilean Sea Bass.

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FROM PHILA, WITH LOVE

RED ALERT

Money does not grow on trees,

No circus truly features fleas,

But believe this: for giving flack

This little box lets you talkback!

To your mother, to your dad,

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Thad.

Press this button and you’ll see

Talkback happens easily!

It fits in almost any pocket,

Wireless models need no socket,

Have super-charged rebuttal lips

Right there at your fingertips.

Just 19.95 it costs,

Such a steal to be the boss!

Get yours now, do not dare chintz:

Make the world your audience!

Will folks be angry, will they care?

Grow loud, throw hands, or sternly stare?

Well if your top speed is not HARE,

Let’s just say: buyer beware.

JOHNNY CORKFORBRAINS’ LOST CUP OF TEA

This morning Johnny Corkforbrains
Lost a cup of tea
He hasn’t got a clue
Where on Earth that it might be.

“It was so piping hot,” he thought,
“I had to set it down.
“I wouldn’t go and call it LOST.
“At the moment, it’s just unfound.”

He scoured the garage
Re-traced steps through den and potty,
In the office, in the kitchen,
Attic, bedroom, basement, pantry.

“I’m stumped,” John thought while wandering,
“Just where that cup might be —
“Wait.
“What’s this here?”
(He took a sip.)
“What luck!
I found iced tea!”

IN THE MOVIE

In the movie near the start
We will make a scene
In which the family of the heroine
Is plain unfair and mean.

And in the movie when his bosses
Tell him flat out, “NO!”
On a lonely late night lakeshore stroll
We’ll have the hero go.

In the movie just as the
Cool kids have it figured out
We’ll have mystery baggage surface
And stir up all new doubt.

Then near the movie’s core
For the wise friend it’s a must
To advise something akin to,
“It’s applies to apples, crust to crust.”

In the movie “In the movie…”
The magic spell will be
For which the final battle’s fought,
Evil and Good, between.

Because whatever happens
A dose of “In the movie…”
Can turn any situation
Useful, funny, sad, or groovy.

CUTTING OFF YOUR NOSE TO FEED YOUR FACE

My smeller may be broken
I cannot get a smell
Is that chicken noodle soup?
Or Clams Casino?
I can’t tell.

My nose is on the fritz,
At least that’s what I think,
We drove past a manure farm
And I could sense no stink.

In fact it’s all non-scents,
No matter what I sniff,
The assembly line of my olfactory
Can’t make a whiff.

Whatever might be in the air
I can’t a bit detect
But if I may, those cookies in your hand….
Might I inspect?

They look delectable,
My eyes are Frisbee big.
Would I like one? Well I shouldn’t….
I don’t want to be a pig.

But maybe just a bite
A nibble, and another,
Wait! I can’t believe it ….
I think my nostrils tingled, brother!

Better take another cookie
They have the power to heal!
Every scrumptious crunchy byte
Makes my nosy muscles squeal!

What’s that – you’re out of cookies?
Now that they did the trick?
That’s a shame. Condolences.
At least my odor motor’s fixed.

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MAY THE FOURTH

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QUOTH MAUDE LEBOWSKI

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EGG ON MY SPACE

 

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Egg on My Space . . . #flashbackfriday to 40 years ago, when this stained glass window rendering of Albany’s own Corning Tower and The Egg was designed and built by my father, Chris. For nearly two decades it hung around the corner from the buildings that inspired it as part of a six window set he created for the dining room of my Uncle Tony’s restaurant, Anthony’s Park Plaza. Today, this piece of Albany and my family’s history adorns my office at NFL Films in Mount Laurel, NJ – nearly 250 miles from where it and I was born, but nonetheless, providing a crystal clear view of our hometown. . . . . . . . . (Inset photos include: Anthony’s at 27 Elk Street, circa 1985 ; Dad and I on stage at Albany’s Palace Theatre, 2015) . . . . . . . . #albany #albanyny #theegg #corningtower #downtownalbany #518 #stainedglass #stainedglassart #stainedglasswindow #upstateny #discoveralbany #iloveny #stainedglasswindow #empirestateplaza #albanyarchives #downtownalbanybid #palacetheatre

A post shared by Paul Camarata (@tweed_typewriter) on

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CARLY SIMON ALBUM COVER FIRST DRAFTS: You’re So Vane

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KOJAK FIRST DRAFTS: Teddy Savalas

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THE BARD OF FLUSHING

Re-Seeding the Weeding

Standing in the window

We saw out in the yard

Dad crouching and appearing

To be thinking very hard.

Before him lay the lawn

Which he ran both his palms through

Then he stood and snapped his fingers

Like he knew just what to do.

“Kids, congratulations!”

he said walking in the door,

“to the list of gifts we’re blessed with,

go ahead and add one more:

That rug of yellow flowers

We always viewed with alarm,

Is now the answer to the question,

‘Where’s your dandelion farm?’

“How close I came to mowing it

How lucky that I stopped!

How fortunes may have turned

If I’d ploughed our major crop:

“No dandelion tinctures,

Lost dandelion greens,

Zero dandelion wine

Or dandelion diaper creams!

“It proves how working hard

instead of smart can be a pox.

Why battle dandelion growth

When we’ve got it outfoxed?

“Now please excuse me kids,

this here farmer has had SOME day,

the land can wear you down, you’ll learn,

if on our farm you stay!”

Chuckling loudly as he exited

Dad didn’t hear us sighing,

Or see us window-squinting,

Picturing farming dandelions.

OFF SWITCH ON

Not working is no crime
during Gooftime,
when doodling, napping,
or day-dreaming are fine.

Gooftime is for play
and a while each day,
it’s a lighthearted state
worth at least a brief stay.

So try it and see
how much happier you’ll be
once you begin to
take Gooftime seriously.

PUSH IT REAL GOOD - The Envelope of Gooftime

“PUSH IT REAL GOOD” – The Envelope of Gooftime (art by PaC).  For more Gooftime art, check out this fabulous work by @sandeehjorth

YOU CAN’T, LEAF!

You there, leaves,

Back on the trees!

You may NOT yet come down

And blanket the ground!

You must help us stall

The beginning of fall,

Because the end of summer

Would be such a bummer.

So up, up, you go

To those branches you know,

Back up in place,

This isn’t a race!

Then in one month feel free

To LEAP off the trees,

Right now I can’t take

The thought of a rake.

AUTUMNA NON GRATA - (Photo - PaC)

AUTUMNA NON GRATA – (Photo – PaC)

ON THE OTHER SIDE

I can see it there …
Just beyond the bus door …
Just down the bus stairs …
After just one stop more …

Hissing brakes
Lurching stop
Squeaky hinges
I stand at the top …

Then step step step, down I go,
When feet hit street it’s begun:
The summer, sweet summer, there it is, right there,
Just beyond the bus door, all that fun.

A THROAT IN THE FROG

From behind our house
a Bullfrog Chorale
serenaded us every night,

It started at eight
and stopped promptly at twelve
going off like the switch of a light.

While they bellowed and croaked
the frogs’ music we soaked
up in all of its ribbity splendor,

Thinking ‘This could be worse,
they could go on all night,
or their singing could sound like a blender.’

LUCIANO FROGAROTTI (Illustration: PaC)

LUCIANO FROGAROTTI  Famous amphibious tenor. (Illustration: PaC)

GRAINIACS

They have rice by the silo
Risotto by the truck
Without oatmeal or cornmeal
They’re never stuck.

Next to their quinoa
And rye piled high
They keep sorghum on hand
In mountains scraping the sky.

By a longshot there’s less
Pasta than Theirs in Italy
And certainly than Them
Ireland has less barley.

Maybe you think
They need granola?
About as much as
Coca needs Cola.

They are the Grainiacs
With more grains than you know
Now all they need is oceans
And oceans and oceans
(did I mention oceans?)
of water to make all those grains go.

NOT A SQUARE ANYWHERE

There was a block party
The Lincoln Logs hosted,
Being metal the Erector Set
Ran marshmallow roasting.

Like a social chair would
K’Nex networked non-stop,
The Magformers stuck together,
The Wood Letter Cubes did not.

The Megabloks, Nanobloks
And Kreos all came.
Jenga tried to sneak in again.
Why’s he so lame?

Often Bristle Blocks skip these things
But not this time:
They were chilling with Goldieblox,
Who, as usual, looked fine.

Typically they don’t
But the Play-Dohs got the invite,
But that wasn’t even
The big surprise of the night,

Which came when the Legos
Walked through the door
Their snap-on hair smooth
As they found the dance floor

Where they boogied down with
All the Playmobil ladies
When ‘New Kids on the Block’ played
The whole place went crazy.

Oh what a block party it was
It’s true,
Not a square anywhere,
And the Legos there, too.